Wednesday, July 13, 2016

Winter Trifle, Part 2 (New Short Story)

Here is Part 2 of my slightly ghostly mystery, Winter Trifle. If you haven't read Part 1 yet, you can find it here.

And if you're ready to go, Part 2 starts now…

Winter Trifle

By Catherine Mesick

On Thursday, Hannah left school at one o’clock
and went with her mother to Mrs. Mumford’s funeral. Hannah felt tears slipping
down her face as she listened to Mrs. Mumford’s friends and neighbors paying
tribute to her—Mrs. Mumford and her deceased husband had had no children, and
no other family members appeared to be in attendance. As Hannah left the
funeral, she thought she saw a girl staring at her from across the street. But
when she met the girl’s gaze, the girl looked away and got into a nearby car.

Hannah had a fleeting thought that the
girl looked familiar. Then she got in the car with her mother and forgot all
about it.

On Friday, Mrs. Lynn did indeed leave
for her trip, and Hannah went off to school as usual. Around lunch time, she
received a text from her mother asking her if she would feel comfortable stopping
by Mr. Schaal’s office after school. Mr. Schaal was an attorney and the
executor of Mrs. Mumford’s estate.

“She left you something in her will,”
Mrs. Lynn texted. “He said it’s something very small.”

Hannah texted back that she would go.

At the end of the school day, Hannah
headed toward her car in the student parking lot. As she reached the car,
someone stepped between her and the car door. It was the girl from the funeral.

“What do you know about this?” the girl
demanded. She waved a newspaper clipping in front of Hannah’s face.

Hannah took a step back. “Who are you?”

“As if you didn’t know,” the girl said.
“I’m Lisa McDonough.”

“Oh,” Hannah said.

“‘Oh’ is right,” Lisa replied. “And I
know exactly who you are. You’re Hannah Lynn. You’re the one who stole my
inheritance.”

“I haven’t stolen anything,” Hannah
said.

“Then what do you call this?” Lisa waved
the newspaper clipping once again.

“I don’t know what that is,” Hannah said
shortly.

Lisa lowered the slip of paper, and
Hannah glimpsed a headline: Local Woman
Wins the Lottery.

Below the headline was a grainy photo of
Mrs. Mumford.

“I don’t remember that.” Hannah frowned
and reached for the clipping.

Lisa snatched it back.

“You can claim you’ve never heard of it
because it was a multi-state lottery,” Lisa said. “And this state allows
anonymity. But the state she’s from originally,” Lisa jabbed at the photo,
“doesn’t allow it.”

“Okay, so why do you carry that around
with you?”

“To show you that I know.”

“Know what?”

“Don’t play dumb,” Lisa said. “I know that
my aunt won four million dollars, and I know you think you’re getting your
hands on it.”

Hannah shook her head. “Mrs. Mumford
didn’t have that kind of money. And if she did, she wouldn’t leave it to me.”

“She—won—the—lottery,” Lisa said slowly
and distinctly. “I’m sure even you can wrap your head around that. And she told
me that she disinherited me and my brother.”

“Did she tell you she left the money to
me?”

“No. She didn’t. But she was always
talking about how great you were and about how my brother and I should be more
like you. I know you think you conned your way into that money.”

“That’s insane,” Hannah said.

“So you’re saying my aunt didn’t leave
you anything?”

Hannah began to feel distinctly
uncomfortable.

“She left me something,” she said unwillingly.

“What?”

“I don’t know yet. I was told it was
something small.”

“Something small like a check?”

“Don’t be crazy,” Hannah said. “I can
guarantee you it’s not a check. Now, please get out of my way. I’ve got some
place to go.”

Lisa moved aside, and Hannah got into
her car.

As soon as the door was shut, Lisa
banged on the window. Hannah opened it just a crack.

“I want you to know you’re not getting
that money,” Lisa said.

“Good to know,” Hannah said. She closed
the window and drove off.

Hannah reached Mr. Schaal’s office in
about fifteen minutes, and she was quickly ushered into the attorney’s
presence. Mr. Schaal was a good-natured man with thick, white hair and even
thicker black-rimmed glasses. Hannah knew him slightly, and he had been present
at Mrs. Mumford’s funeral.

“Thank you for coming in today, Hannah,”
Mr. Schaal said as Hannah sat down in a big leather chair.

Hannah waited politely, unsure of what
she should do or say next.

“I’ve asked you here today because Mrs.
Mumford left you a small item,” Mr. Schaal said after a moment’s pause.
“Ordinarily, I would meet with your parents. When a minor receives an
inheritance in a will, it is customary—in fact, it is correct legal procedure
to give a copy of the will and the inheritance itself to the minor’s legal
guardian for safekeeping. However, in this case the inheritance is so small
that it really is negligible in terms of a dollar amount. And I would like you
to have the will and your inheritance as soon as possible so that you can be
out of this business altogether. I explained that to your mother this morning,
and she agreed with me.”

Again, Hannah waited patiently.

Mr. Schaal regarded her for a moment
through his thick glasses. Then he slid a manila envelope across the desk to
her.

“This is a copy of Mrs. Mumford’s will.
It is yours to keep, and you may read it in its entirety if you wish. Or, you
may want to have your mom and dad look it over for you. What it says basically
is this: Mrs. Mumford left her house and the bulk of her estate to the local
library. And she left this to you.”

Mr. Schaal rose and took a white
cardboard box off a shelf. He placed it in front of Hannah and removed the lid.
Then he sat down again.

“You may take a look if you wish.”

Hannah peered into the box. Inside were
three folders stuffed with dog-eared loose-leaf sheets. On top of the folders
was one sheet of notebook paper all by itself.

Hannah lifted the top sheet out and
looked it over. It was titled ‘Winter Trifle,’ and below the title was a
recipe.

Hannah looked up at the attorney. “Mrs.
Mumford left me her recipes?”

“Yes,” Mr. Schaal replied. “The actual
cookbooks she owned she left to the library. But she left you her own personal
recipes, including her famous ‘Winter Trifle.’”

Mr. Schaal paused, and his eyes seemed
to twinkle behind his thick glasses.

“I told you it was something small.”

Hannah put the recipe back in the box.
“So it was just the library and me?”

“Yes. You and the library are the only
beneficiaries named in the will.”

“Does that mean Mrs. Mumford left her
niece and nephew out of her will?”

“Yes, it does,” Mr. Schaal said. “She
made a previous will in which they were the primary beneficiaries, and I expect
they will contest the new one and possibly cause you some trouble. That’s why I
wanted to see you as soon as possible and give you your inheritance. That way
you can be out of this business completely.”

“Unfortunately, I’ve had some trouble
already,” Hannah said.

Mr. Schaal looked at her sharply. “What
do you mean?”

“I ran into Lisa on the way over here.
She showed me a newspaper clipping. She said Mrs. Mumford had won four million
dollars in the lottery, and that I had stolen her inheritance away.”

Mr. Schaal sighed. “I was afraid
something like that might happen. I’ve actually emailed both of them a copy of
the will, so they should know that you only got the recipes and the library got
everything else. But sometimes when money is involved, people do crazy things—and
it doesn’t have to be a lot of money either. I’ve seen people do awful things
over much smaller sums.”

“Yes, she did,” Mr. Schaal replied. “But
it does appear as if it’s gone. The money isn’t in her checking or savings
account, and she didn’t invest it in her retirement fund either. The only other
substantial asset she had was her house, and while that would fetch a decent
sum if it were put on the market, it certainly wouldn’t be worth millions.
Besides, even if we did find the money, it would go to the library and not to
you or anyone else. But it’s easier to blame a person than an institution. I’m
sorry you’ve been harassed already.”

“It’s okay,” Hannah said. She paused.
“Mrs. Mumford’s death was natural, right? You said people do crazy things
sometimes—”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Mr. Schaal said
quickly. “Mrs. Mumford knew she was ill for a long time. Her passing was not at
all unexpected. She had plenty of time to arrange her affairs exactly the way
she wanted. You need have no fear on that account.”

The meeting concluded soon after that,
and Hannah took her box of recipes out to the car and settled it onto the seat
next to her. She sat for a few moments looking at the box. Then she opened the
lid and took out the recipe for Winter Trifle. She read it over a few times and
then folded it up carefully and put it into her bag.

“It’s been a weird day,” Hannah said.
“Thanks for meeting me.”

“Yeah, of course,” Alex replied.

The two of them slid into their booth at
the Chinese restaurant. It was Friday night, and the restaurant was packed. The
night was dark and very cold, and the weather forecast said that snow was on
the way. Hannah was glad to be in a warm, cheerful room full of people.

“So what’s been going on?” Alex asked.

Over spring rolls Hannah told him about
her encounter with Lisa and her meeting with Mr. Schaal.

“Wow,” Alex said. “So you’ve got an
angry ex-heiress searching for missing money who believes you’ve stolen it. But
all you’ve got is a box full of recipes.”

“Pretty much.”

“Did you ever express any interest in
those recipes?”

“Well, not really,” Hannah said. “I
always tasted the dishes Mrs. Mumford made, though, and tried to be positive. I
guess she thought from that that I liked them.”

Hannah paused as their dinner order
arrived, and both of them sat back as plates and bowls were arranged in front of
them.

“It’s kind of funny,” Hannah said once
they were settled. “She gave me the recipe for the dessert I was telling you
about.”

“The Winter Trife?”

“That’s the one. I’ve got it with me,
actually.”

Hannah reached into her bag and pulled
out a sheet of paper which she handed over to Alex.

He glanced over the sheet and then read
it aloud:

“Whip cream.

Add strawberry jam.

Layer in this order: fortune cookies
(crushed), jam, whipped cream.

Ladle powdered sugar over the top.”

Alex handed the sheet of paper back to
Hannah. “That’s the weirdest recipe I’ve ever seen.”

“Yeah, it wasn’t great,” Hannah said.

“And that sheet of paper looks brand
new,” Alex said. “It looks like she wrote it recently.”

“I know she made the recipe up a long
time ago,” Hannah said. “Maybe the original got worn out, so she copied it
over. She made it just about every winter while she was on her annual holiday
shopping spree. She even used to take some to share when she went out to
auctions.”

“I think you should be careful,” Alex
said.

“With the recipe?” Hannah said. “I don’t
plan on making it.”

“No, not with the recipe,” Alex replied.
“I think you should look out for yourself. I’m not sure this Lisa believes you
that you don’t know where the money is. And like the lawyer said, people do
crazy things when money is involved.”

“What do you think she’s going to do?”
Hannah asked.

“I’m not thinking of anything specific,”
Alex said. “Just be aware of your surroundings. Pay attention to the people
around you.”

“You think she could be following me?”

“It’s possible. After all, she did find
you in the high school parking lot. And there’s still this shadowy brother of
hers out there somewhere. All I’m saying is just keep your eyes open.”

“I’ll be careful,” Hannah said.

They finished dinner, and when it was time
to open their fortune cookies, Hannah paused with hers in her hand. Then she
slipped the plastic-wrapped cookie into her bag.

“Aren’t you going to open yours?” Alex
asked.

“Not at the moment,” Hannah said.

If Alex thought that that was unusual,
he said nothing, and the two of them gathered up their things and went up to
the cashier.

As they stepped out into the night,
Hannah shivered and looked up at the sky—the heavy cloud cover made the night
especially dark.

“Are you going to be okay?” Alex asked.
“I know your parents are out of town this weekend.”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” Hannah said.

“If anything weird happens at your
house,” Alex said, “don’t hesitate to call the police. And right after you call
the police, call me.”

Hannah couldn’t help but smile. “Thanks.
I’ll do that.”

Alex turned and walked to his car.
Hannah walked to hers, and as she settled inside, she paused with her keys in
her hand. She’d intended to wait until she got home to open her fortune cookie,
but something made her want to open it now. She reached into her bag and pulled
out the cookie, which she quickly unwrapped and broke open.

The little slip of paper inside was
smaller than usual, and it fluttered out of the cookie and onto her lap.

Hannah frowned as she picked up her
fortune and read it. The only words on the tiny scrap of paper were these:

When
the snow comes

The little slip of paper had been torn
in half, and the rest of the message was missing.

Hannah broke the cookie open completely,
looking for the rest of her fortune, but the cookie was empty. She turned the
interior light on and searched in her bag next, but her bag was equally empty
of paper scraps. Hannah turned the light off and settled back into her seat.
Then she drove home.

As Hannah reached home and stepped out
of her car, a light snow began to fall.